"he Is Fictional And Dead" TO YOU MAYBE

fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck f

He’s alive and well in my mind

Fuck all love letters except whatever Cardan Greenbriar had going on when he wrote “my heart is buried with you in the strange soil of the mortal world, as it was drowned with you in the cold waters of the undersea. it was yours before i could admit it, and yours it shall ever remain”

I run after him in the cold winter, my laboured breaths creating clouds of steam in the air. A smoke threatening to choke me and blind me and eat me alive. “Don’t walk away from me!” I shout at his back, my voice cracking at the end. He freezes. His fists clench and he stands there, turned away from me. “Don’t walk away from me. Please” I whimper again. He suddenly spins around, eyes red and tears streaming down his cheeks. My heart cracks. “you don’t get to ask that of me” he finally mutters brokenly “you. Do not. Get to ask anything of me!” he repeats louder now, getting in my face. I stand there, sinking and sinking until I wonder if the concrete below me is sucking me in or if his presence is a tornado itself. “You are breaking me. No, you are absolutely annihilating my heart” he whispers with so much emotion that I can see the cracks in his eyes. His hands hold my shoulders desperately and all I want to do is sink in them but all I can do is frantically shake my head while sobbing.  “You crashed into my life,” he goes on “you flipped my world upside down. I gave you my heart. I GAVE YOU MY HEART” he laughs, sounding nothing lie the boy I used to know. “the best part is, I never knew I could have something like what we had. I never knew it existed.” A scoff, he suddenly sneers. “you should have never come into my life. You can’t miss what you never had. But now. Now you have destroyed me. And I will never be the same again” still shaking my head I beg, “please. I-I can’t tell you,” I stop to stifle a sob. “I can’t tell you why I shut you out but you have to trust me. You mean everything to me. You mean the world to me and I can’t I can’t I can’t see you like this. It is killing me please stop please stop feeling like this I can’t breathe and you’re standing there and it hurts it hurts so god damn much because your pain is my pain so stop!” taking in a deep breath, I finally look him in the eye and tell him the truth.

5 years he's been in hiding.

5 miserable years he's had to go by a different name, wear different clothes and tell a different story to everyone he meets. He's been James, Frank, he thinks he even went by Dustin at one point. He's had long hair, short hair, he's been bald. He had a beard for a while and taught music in a small music store, but he shaved it off after a week because all he saw in the mirror was Wayne, his uncle, his family, the man he abandoned.

For 5 years, he's been everyone but Eddie Munson.

The government told him he couldn't be Eddie anymore.

"Eddie Munson is dead." They told him; they even had the death certificate to prove it. "Don't come back to Hawkins. Keep moving. There are still people looking for you." Was the last thing they said to him before dropping him off with a wad of cash in some town he's never been to before.

He'd asked for the date at the front desk of a motel, and they'd told him April 20th. Eddie had crumbled down to his knees and cried, he'd cried so hard the motel clerk asked if she should call someone, asked if he was alright.

"I'm fine." Was his broken reply. He'd taken the key for his room, curled up on the uncomfortable bed, and didn’t move for days. He wasn't alright. He'd been in a government hospital for what he thought was a few days but was actually over a month and then released into the world like some rehabilitated animal. He didn't get to say goodbye to anyone. Fuck, he didn't even know if they all made it out of the upside down. All he knew was that he was alone. And that he couldn't go home. Ever.

He'd eventually gotten over himself and made some kind of life for himself.

It took him a few tries to find something that stuck, something that felt sort of like himself. Every few months, an ungodly amount of money appears in his bank account. The formal bank statement says it's from an estranged relative. Eddie knows it's not. He knows it's the government's way of buying his silence. His expensive rent and struggle to find a job is the only reason he doesn't send it all back to them.

He's lived in his current place for a year now, which is a new record for him, but he's got no friends. Well, he has acquaintances, people he can laugh with every now and then and go out for drinks with, but no one who knows him. No one who knows why he wakes every night screaming, no one who understands why he flinches when the lights in the bar flicker, why he hates the sound of people cracking their knuckles and why his hands shake whenever anyone mentions the scar on his face.

It's late at night when he's covered in sweat and his throat is raw from screaming awake from a nightmare, that he really misses his friends, his family, the people that he went through hell with. He's not allowed to call them, not allowed to send them letters or visit. He's not even allowed to know how Wayne is doing. It hurts. It hurts so much. He can't even look at himself in the mirror anymore because he's aged, and he's slowly starting to look more and more like his uncle.

But his friends are a little harder to escape, it's like parts of them have found him and are trying to haunt him, trying to remind him that he can't be a part of their lives.

Just last week, he walked by a book store and saw a brand new fantasy graphic novel on display in the window, 'written by Mike Wheeler & illustrated by Will Byers' was displayed on the bottom of the cover in gold letters. He's never bought a book so fast in his life. He's read it front to back 3 times already.

He can't even watch the news in peace because they were doing a news story about a small town basketball player who's made it to the big leagues and is winning everyone's hearts with his skills and bright personality. Eddie had cried and wished he'd been there to congratulate Lucas, wished he could have been there to tell him how proud he was.

Even Nancy is haunting him. Her news articles get delivered to his front door every day in the paper and most of the time the articles aren't even sad, but he cries at his small dining table alone, his breakfast cold and his coffee filled with his tears.

He misses his friends. He misses them so much and it's eating him alive. It feels like he's lying on the ground of the upside down all over again, tiny little mouths ripping away at his flesh except this time it's happening from the inside. Each time he's reminded how far away he is from his friends, a small piece of him is eaten away.

He doesn't know how much more he can take.

And then something odd happens. He gets a postcard and it's addressed to him, the real him; Eddie Munson.

The handwriting is hard to read and some words have been crossed out but the name signed at the bottom of the card pulls a sob from Eddie's throat and has him almost crumbling on his doorstep.

I'm sorry I took so long. I'll see you soon.

From Steve Harrington.

Nikita Gill, from Fierce Fairytales Poems & Stories to Stir Your Soul; "Seven,"

◌ ⏝ ୨ ♡ ୧ ⏝ ◌

𝘐 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘸 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘺 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺

𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥.

♡ xoxo-Suzy ♡

◌ ⏝ ୨ ♡ ୧ ⏝ ◌

I used to build dreams about you.

F. Scott Fitzgerald

You're just a mammal. Let yourself act like it. Your brain needs enrichment. Your body needs rest. You feel hunger and grow hair. You need to pack bond with other sentient things so you don't become unsocialized and neurotic. You are biologically inclined to seek dopamine and become sick when chronically stressed. "Hedonism" is made up to place moral value on taking pleasure in sensory experiences. I am telling you that if you don't let yourself be a fucking mammal, as you were made, you will suffer and go insane. No grindset no diets no trying to be above your drive for connection. Pursue what makes you feel good and practice radial rejection of the constructs meant to turn you into a machine. You're a mammal.

Letters I write to myself from fiction characters part 1, Azriel Shadowsinger, ACOTAR

Dear my beloved, 

                                   My shadows have told me that you are struggling with your mental and physical health more than usual. I wish I could be there to help you feel better, but alas, I cannot. Rhysand has sent you on a dangerous mission, and prohibited anyone helping you. I told him it was a mistake, that it wouldn’t benefit you, but he disregarded me. I apologize that I cannot be of much help, especially since it is my fault your last mission failed. Hopefully I can convince Rhysand to let me help you soon. 

Cassian and Elain miss you. Not as much as I, of course, but they miss you. Elain says the garden is dying without you, and that the smell of baked goods that fills the townhouse is not as...fragrant as it once was. And I have to agree. Especially the garden. The flowers do seem to be wilting without your beauty and grace to strengthen them. The once delicious chocolate muffins have lost their flavour and warmth. When you return, when not if, it will be like the first spring all over again, believe me. The sun will shine brighter, the flowers bloom once again. The flavour and warmth will return to food; the days will be longer, laughter filling the streets. It will be beautiful when you return home. 

Cassian says the rooftop feels emptier when it’s just him up there without you to brighten his world. Because that’s what you do. You brighten up everyone’s world. You make everyone happy, even when you feel like giving up like you do now. Maybe that can be your reason to stay. Not for me or Elain or Cassian, but because you help people. 

I hope this helped. I will be contacting you again via letter as often as I can. I don’t expect you to reply. 

Just remember, the darkness is here to help you discover the sun inside you. 

          Your beloved, 

                                Azriel